


Let Me Be Part of The Narrative

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Not A Lot Of Plot, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor needs his impossible girl more than he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Be Part of The Narrative

**Author's Note:**

> A quick spot o' fluff. I like the idea that Twelve has vulnerabilities and that it's Clara that helps his with them.
> 
>  
> 
> Title is from Hamilton the Musical (of course)

“RIVER NO.”

There was an almighty shout from down the corridor, bringing Clara Oswald back to Earth with a thud. Earth in the metaphorical sense of course. Since Danny Pink had died Clara had taken up almost permanent residence on the TARDIS. 

It was him.

Again.

His old body required fewer naps than this one, but Clara preferred it this way, it gave her time to recharge too and meant that she didn’t have to enforce trips back to London to give her a proper night’s sleep in her little flat. However the sleep he did get wasn’t always the calmest. He spoke in his sleep, usually chattering away about inane things but occasionally there were the bad nights. The nightmares.

There was another yell and a thump against wood as he smashed his hand into the bedframe. This was a nightmare, and as much as he would hate to admit it in the morning, he needed his impossible girl to get him through it.

Slightly reluctantly, Clara extracted herself from her warm bed and wrapped herself in her dressing gown. She padded down the corridor, silently tracing a pattern along the metal wall with her fingertips and stopped just short of his bedroom door. It was ajar, he always left it like that when he gave in to sleep. He didn’t like it being shut, he said he felt too trapped and vulnerable with it closed. 

They’d argued about it of course. His sleep talking was tolerable until he had a particularly intense dream about River, and Clara had decided that the murmurs about fixing the TARDIS chameleon circuits were acceptable but as soon as he’d described in great detail an intimate evening between himself and his wife, Clara had tried to put her foot down.

She’d lost. 

She tiptoed up to the open door. He was definitely asleep, but was thrashing around, tying the covers in knots with his legs. He was sweating, great beads were rolling down his face and neck onto his shoulders, mixing with tears on the way, his silver curls clinging to his forehead. There were scratch marks on the headboard, and red lines were appearing on his forearms as he aimlessly grabbed at his arms. 

He was hyperventilating, shouting at nothing. Begging to the air for River not to go, not to do it. Cursing and swearing in at least 20 different languages as he fought his invisible demons.

Clara felt her heart sink. She’d only seen him this vulnerable and out of control once; when he believed he was heading for his death. This time he wasn’t, he was safe on the TARDIS, floating in the time vortex. 

She padded in and sat on the bed, she realised he wasn’t aware she was there when she dodged his flailing arms, narrowly avoiding being given a black eye.

She managed to catch his wrists, slipping her fingers around to feel his pulses, they were so fast there wasn’t a pause between beats. 

"Doctor, it's okay, it's Clara. You're safe now, Doctor you're dreaming" she said, trying to keep her voice as level and calm as she could, despite practically wrestling with the Doctor. He was surprisingly strong, even in his dream state. 

His eyes flew open, full of terror, searching and scanning her face as his body began to settle.

“River” he moaned

“No, it’s Clara, I’m here and I’ve got you. Doctor you’re safe. You’re safe, love” Clara murmured, moving one hand to stroke the Doctor’s hair from his forehead. It was dripping with sweat.

“It’s okay, you’re on the TARDIS. You’re okay, I’m here”

“NO” He yelled suddenly, thrashing against Clara’s hold on his wrist.

“DOCTOR STOP! Please, let me in, let me help you”

The Doctor twisted his hand round to touch the pulse point on her wrist, and a flash of bright white light and hot pain flooded her senses as he opened the psychic link between them. He could see the two of them moving, like ghosts, River falling further and further away from him as he battled.

 _“Doctor, you’re safe. She’s safe. It’s Clara. This isn’t real. You’re on the TARDIS with me, you’re okay”_ She thought, trying desperately to project her feelings of calm across to him.

The link broke and he sat up in bed and clung to Clara, burying his head in her shoulder, sobbing gently. She wrapped her arms around him, rocking him slightly, resting her chin on the top of his head. They stayed like that for twenty minutes, it taking that long for him to settle down, to stop the flow of tears and to slow his rapid heartbeat.

She tucked him in, rather like a parent would to a small child and kissed him on the forehead, just like his old self had done to her countless times. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist and looked up at her, eyes widened like she would if she wanted something from him.

“Stay.” 

“Doctor, I need to…” She protested.

“Please.”

She studied his face. Where normally there would be an owlish stare, his face full of lines, she was struck by how young and frightened he looked. He didn’t look like the Doctor, and that filled Clara’s entire being with dread. 

She pulled over the armchair he kept in his room and grabbed his hand, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I’ll stay”

He smiled and curled up in the foetal position, refusing to let go of Clara. She stroked his hair as he closed his eyes, amazed at how vulnerable and small he seemed. 

_“Rest now, my warrior”_

She paused, not entirely why the lullaby she’d learnt on Akhaten with Bow Tie had come into her head, nor why she had let it come out of her mouth. 

He nodded, signalling her to continue.

_“Rest now, your hardship is over”_

The more she thought about it, the more she thought it was fitting. A soothing tune for her Old God. She let the melody tumble out of her lips.

Once she was satisfied he'd completely dropped off, she extracted her hand from his grasp to grab the book on his bedside table. He whimpered and Clara quickly slipped her hand back into his, desperately wanting to avoid another meltdown. 

She turned the book over in her spare hand, flicking to the first page.

_"Pride and Prejudice  
Jane Austen"_

And scrawled underneath in the Doctor's handwriting

_"Work out why Clara loves this so much."_

She flipped through the book, there was a note on almost every page 

_"Humans are stupid"_

_"BUT THIS DOESNT EVEN MAKE SENSE"_

_"Clara is a grown woman, why"_

_"Well that won't work, he's an alien for a start"_

_“My eyes are leaking”_

She let out a small chuckle, and almost in response, the Doctor smiled slightly and pulled her hand closer to him.

“Oh Doctor”. 

She leant over and kissed him on the forehead, and settled in to read for the rest of the night.


End file.
